


A Rosemary Flag

by FeoplePeel



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Levellers, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: “We, the free people of England, agree to ascertain our government to abolish all arbitrary power and to set bounds and limits both to our supreme and all subordinate authority and remove all known grievances.”-An Agreement of the Free People of England, 1 May 1649





	A Rosemary Flag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).



“Rosemary?” Abigail looked up from her writing to fiddle with the ribbon passing from Miranda’s hand to her own.

“That's right. The ribbon,” Miranda shifted her skirts to sit across from her. “The green, do you know its significance?”

Abigail shook her head. She brought the rosemary to her nose, face falling at the dulled scene.

“Leveller's colours,” Miranda explained. “It is my understanding that today is an ill-remembered one for Mister Bones. The symbol remains an important one to him.”

“It would make for a far more beautiful flag than a skull,” Abigail suggested with a small smile. She opened her mouth to speak again then clasped her fingers around her new token instead.

“You don't need my permission to speak, Abigail. You are of sound mind, you need no one's.”

“In truth, Lady Hamilton, I find myself surprised he remembers the days, being so long at sea,” Abigail started slowly, but as always warmed to the topic once she began. Her journal was full, Miranda noted with no little delight. “It’s been scarcely a few weeks and I can barely keep count.”

“You could ask him how he does so,” Miranda suggested, motioning to the ribbon. “And about that. I'm sure you have many questions and I've been assured he's a knowledgeable...gentleman.”

Abigail dipped her head, her smile bordering on pursed with how hard she wrestled it. “So this wasn't a gift for me than?”

Miranda stood and eased forward to kiss her cheek, still powdersoft despite her recent hardships. “That's entirely dependant upon how you make use of it, my dear.”

It only took Abigail until the crew changed hands for midday to stop idling about the cabin. Miranda waited a respectable amount of time to follow her footsteps outside. It was easy to find James from there. Even if he didn't stand out among the men (and in Miranda’s opinion he stood out amongst all men) he had a way of pulling her awareness to him from wherever he was.

She remembered him doing the same at his first society party. Captain James McGraw, the fish out of water, and still catching her eye, checking on her from across the room. Everything sound? Do I need to fetch Thomas?

Abigail was approaching Billy’s elbow, still graceful in her hesitancy, by the time Miranda came to stand beside James. He was as focused on the interaction happening on the main deck as Miranda was.

“Still so worried about what others whisper?”

“Only if those whispers lead to another mutiny,” James threw a raised brow across his shoulder in her direction. “Or the loss of my First Mate.”

“I didn't tell Abigail you made the ribbon,” Miranda conceded. James made a considering noise beside her. “But I know that isn't where your mind is. Tell me, did Mister Bones ever give thought to the pamphlet that traded him for his freedom?”

“I imagine he gave it thought long before that,” James crossed his arms. “He was angry when we took him on. Strip that away and what was left?”

“Conviction,” Miranda shielded her eyes, watching Billy take the ribbon from Abigail with a sort of reverence. “I've seen that look.”

“He said he believed London needed to change.”

“And now?” She allowed James’ silence to stretch for a few moments. “I entirely reject the notion that you found yourselves in bed together as many times as you've recounted to me and never followed up on such a question, James.”

He shook his head, smiling. “He believes, if anything, more strongly.”

Miranda rested her elbows on the railing in front of her. “Tell me, does he want to change the world?”

On the main deck, Billy’s hand closed around the ribbon, bits of rosemary poking through his fingers. His eyes found Miranda as Abigail spoke, then shifted to her right where James was ignoring her and the look from his First Mate.

Yes, she'd seen that look.

Billy cornered her the next day after dinner. She was certain he didn't consider it cornering as he sat, but he was quite a large man and here she sat, in a corner. James, only a few tables away and speaking with the man named Silver, cast her that quick, familiar look and she waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“I…,” Billy crossed his hands on the tabletop. He motioned with his chin to the pin on his lapel. She'd only seen him wear it to meals, but it was endearing. “Thank you. Abigail said you made it.”

“You know I didn't. But you're welcome for its delivery. I am quite sure it wouldn’t have found its way to your hands otherwise.”

Billy nodded slowly. “Where did he find rosemary?”

“That _was_ me,” she shrugged. “I hear that I caused you some distress. Some have even said I blew you away in a storm.”

He dipped his head, dragging a smile from somewhere. She found his face soft and young, too much so for the work he did, the people he'd latched himself to. "I've heard the rumours of your spellcraft, but it wasn't your hand that dropped me from the side of a boat, Miss."

"Whose was it?"

"God's if you fancy yourself a God-fearing woman.” Billy clenched his fingers together then released them into something more relaxed. "And my own clumsiness."

Miranda felt her bottom lip draw up at the comparison of the James she knew to the God of Lambrick’s religion; that spark ignite in her chest before every debate. Then she remembered her position, Captain Flint’s position, and forcibly snuffed it out.

She pressed a hand against the rosemary at his chest. “One believes you might be protected now.”

Billy brought his own hand up when hers fell away. He chuckled. “One might believe anything.”


End file.
